After Miscarriage, Comments Like, "You Still Look Pregnant!" Cut Even Deeper
Ashley Carroll, 25, from Forth Worth, Texas, was five months pregnant when she started to feel extremely ill. When her nausea was followed by intense bleeding, she started to panic. After calling her OB-GYN, she immediately rushed to the hospital. “This was right when COVID was starting, so I had to go in alone and wait for five hours to find out that my baby no longer had a heartbeat,” Carroll tells me. “I will always remember the doctor telling me, ‘This pregnancy isn’t going to make it.’”
After two months and three rounds of vaginal pills meant to help her body expel the non-viable pregnancy, Carroll had a D&C to remove the fetal remains. But the ”baby bump” remained, and the inevitable comments made by well-meaning strangers — “Congratulations!” “When are you due?” “How far along are you?” “So, do you know what you’re having?” — continued long after her pregnancy ended.
“I distanced myself from everyone, including people extremely close to me,” she explains. “I would still have people text me, and even ask my husband, to ask how the baby and I were doing. It was a huge trigger for me. I felt ashamed, like I had failed my husband, family and friends.”
From the shape and size of a pregnant stomach, to how much weight a pregnant person gains while pregnant, to how quickly they can hide the physical proof of a pregnancy once it ends, the scrutiny pregnant people face is both relentless and damaging.
But for those who have experienced pregnancy loss, the judgement can cut even deeper. The process of a miscarriage can take weeks — and the physical signs can stick around even longer — meaning sometimes these comments are directed at someone who is still actively miscarrying, making the experience all the more painful to navigate. “I didn’t have my baby anymore, but I still had all the physical things going on for about three months after I miscarried,” Carroll explains. “I was so angry, some days I didn’t even look in the mirror.”
Mental and emotional indicators like fatigue, bloating, nausea or mood swings can also garner attention, along with scrutiny and conjecture from friends, family members, coworkers and strangers. Those comments can be just as harmful.
Hannah Coburn, 34, from Spokane, WA, was seven weeks pregnant when she lost her pregnancy. When she returned to work in the labor and delivery ward at a local hospital, her peers assumed she was still pregnant. “I got comments about my fatigue and nausea because those are such classic early pregnancy symptoms,” she explains. “The worst incident happened on a day when I was physically and emotionally exhausted. I told a coworker I was just really tired, and she said, ‘Maybe you’re pregnant.’ I responded, ‘No, I’m not.’ She kept insisting, until I snapped and said, ‘Well, seeing as I’m actively miscarrying right now, I’m 100 percent sure I’m not.’”
“It was in front of everyone at the desk,” she continues. “You could have heard a pin drop. I just walked away, went to the bathroom and sobbed.”
While one in four women will experience miscarriage, no two are exactly the same. In my new book, I Had a Miscarriage: A Memoir, a Movement, I work to dispel the idea that there’s one way to react to a pregnancy, and the loss of it — be it mentally, emotionally or physically — by highlighting a variety of miscarriage stories, including my own, which was singed by comments made about my post-pregnancy loss body.
I was 16 weeks along in my second pregnancy when I miscarried at home alone — a harrowing experience. In that moment, my career as a reproductive and maternal mental health professional was no longer simply theoretical. And while I was able to immediately recognize that my pregnancy loss didn’t occur because of something I did, and was not the result of my body failing me — it was the result of my body recognizing a chromosomal abnormality that most likely would have rendered my pregnancy incompatible with life — comments made about my body made by those closest to me did take a toll. Months after my loss, my own mother scanned my body up and down and exclaimed, “Oh my goodness, you still look pregnant!” The cultural obsession with the size of a woman’s body, even in a period of duress, was made palpable in that moment.
Unfortunately, I know I’m not alone. And since one in six women who experience miscarriage will develop long-term post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) symptoms, these comments often increase and prolong the mental health ramifications of pregnancy loss. People who experience miscarriage, stillbirth and/or infant loss often want to talk about their experiences and the pregnancies and/or babies they lost — not their bodies. Sharing stories of pregnancy loss can work to eradicate the lingering stigma, judgment and shame that often forces us into isolation and silence.
That’s why it’s important to choose your words carefully when discussing pregnancy or pregnancy loss with someone. Instead of making comments about a person’s body, focus on how they are feeling. Phrases like, “I’m sorry for your loss and I’m here for you,” or, “You’re not alone. Be gentle with yourself,” are kind ways to let the person know that they don’t have to deal with the aftermath of miscarriage on their own. A simple “I love you and know how wonderful you are,” can be affirming, and, “If you ever want to talk about your loss, I’m here,” can work to de-stigmatize conversations about pregnancy and infant loss.
“Honestly, at this point in my life I encourage people [to ask questions], because it was my baby and I always want to remember my angel,” Carroll explains. “I hate to say it, but it offends me when people avoid the topic completely. Though it was tragic, it happened and I am living with that.”
But as Coburn says, we want those conversations to happen free from speculation, judgement, shame and jokes. Be it a weight-related observation or a guess about a person’s reproductive status because they’re tired or abstaining from alcohol, these post-loss comments and probes can work to hinder the ongoing healing process that eventually occurs in the aftermath of pregnancy loss. “Casual jokes about pregnancy are absolutely devastating to people who experience loss or are struggling with infertility,” Coburn says. “It’s never OK to ask about someone’s reproductive status in a casual social situation. Close friends and healthcare providers are the only people who should be able to talk about what’s going on with your body.”
If you or someone you know has recently experienced a pregnancy or infant loss and are looking for support, you can visit Return to Zero, nationalshare.org, Postpartum Support International or calmwaters.org. Remember: You are not alone. Millions of women understand this experience too well.
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